


A Thousand Words

by allthingsziall



Category: youtube - Fandom
Genre: Everybody is gay, F/F, F/M, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Past Troye + tyler, Past joey + connor, except when they're not, idk what I was thinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:10:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3377615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthingsziall/pseuds/allthingsziall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor is a photographer and Troye is a model and they live in a cute studio apartment in L.A. [I was going to call it an AU, but this seems more like future canon.] Connor loves taking photos of Troye because he thinks that Troye is beautiful. Connor thinks that he's average. Well, below average. Troye knows that Connor doesn't care about him not being 6'0 or having chiseled abs or perfect hair. Or at least he thought he did. Insecurities ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's almost 1am so there's probably like 20 million errors that I'll fix later or never idk art is risk

_Snap. Click. Whiiiir. Print._ Repeat.

   

This sequence has gone on since 5 o'clock in the morning when Connor woke up and saw Troye cuddling his bare torso. Troye's eyes were closed in an almost angelic—no, _definitely_ angelic state; his long eyelashes were floating right above his cheekbones and his nose was twitching in his sleep. It was the rare moments like these where he saw his little _Troye_ and not Troye Sivan, international model. He craved the moments where he could just be with his boyfriend without having to worry about a shoot or crazy breakfast rushes getting in the way. 

Connor works as a photographer and also owns a small breakfast cafè, except on Sundays he doesn't open until 12, which is when he usually closes every other day. 

Since Troye models in Paris, his schedule is hectic. He stays in Paris for shoots Tuesday-Friday, then flies home and doesn't get to L.A until Saturday night, then he flies back on Monday. Then repeat. Sure, he gets breaks every now and then, but most of the time he's sleeping so his body doesn't shut down from jet lag. 

Connor gets lonely. So Connor takes pictures. Connor loves the photos the agency sends him of Troye, but there's something he loves about _taking_ photos of Troye. He loves catching him off guard; the way the natural light hits Troye and highlights his cheekbones drives him crazy. And Troye has these pretty pink lips that any girl would _die_ for. And don't even get Connor _started_ on Troye's eyes. He's got a whole section in his scrapbook just for Troye's eyes.

Sadly, these lazy, late Sunday mornings won't last forever, and Sunday will turn to Monday, and Troye will have to leave for Paris again, leaving Connor all alone with nothing but his thoughts and his camera.

Connor gets lonely. So Connor takes pictures.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for my excessive use of italics i guess it's my writing style 
> 
> it's being told in Connor's pov to set up the story but dw i'll be switchin it around!!!

__It's a beautiful Friday morning when Connor opens up Common Culture for the day. His chest feels a bit heavy and his mind a bit fuzzy, but he ties his apron around his waist and sucks it up. He greets each customer with a smile, happy to see all of the familiar faces of his daily customers and the unfamiliar ones of the tourists. The walls of Common Culture are covered with Polaroids, some of the customers, Connor's family, his friends, and Troye. There are a few pictures of him and his ex that he still hasn't taken down. He tells himself that he'll get to it later. It's been over a year.

“Connor, sweetie? You alright?”

Connor blinks three times and looks up to see Annabelle, a sweet old lady 89 years young, who's been a loyal customer since the day a cute, skinny doe-eyed boy wrote his name and number on a dollar bill before winking and putting it in the tip jar. Connor seriously believes that she's his good luck charm. Annabelle has noticeably gotten quite ill, though she'd never admit it to anyone; she's been a very independent woman ever since her husband died (ironically the same day that his and Joey's relationship did). She's been coming less and less, and instead of her staying behind after closing and swapping stories with Connor, she takes her order to go.

“Oh. Uhm, _yes_. _Fine_. _Great_.” Spluttered response, which would usually _never_  work on Annabelle, but she's been so _tired_ lately that she lets it slide. “Hazelnut latte with 6 double chocolate chip cookies for the grandkids. Have a lovely day.” He gives an awkward smile and she walks off, sporting a limp that wasn't there the last time she came.

\-------

Connor feels worse as the morning progresses. He feels like closing shop early, but there's only half an hour left till closing, so he figures he can push through. He's been coughing a lot though, and it's been deterring some of the customers from consuming his products. He figures he can run across the street to his apartment for a cough drop and come back without the intern burning the place down. So he gives the perky blonde intern, (he has to look at her name tag to remember her name) _Lia Marie_ , a quick tutorial on how to work the machines and the register and then he trudges across the street. Lia is just happy that she doesn't have to clean the blenders anymore.

\--------

Where the _hell_ are the cough drops? Connor knows that he had some cough drops. Maybe he could find them if he'd just stop _coughing_.

His phone rings. It's Troye. He doesn't pick up.

His phone rings _again_. It's Troye. He _doesn't_ pick up.

His phone rings _a third time_. He doesn't even look at the collar ID, and he declines the call.

If he picks up while he's trying to hack up a lung, Troye will hear, and he'll _worry_. Troye always worries too much about Connor. And then he gets the little worry lines on his forehead and does his puppy dog eyes, which Connor thinks is just _adorable_ , but it hurts him to know that Troye is upset. Connor just wants Troye to enjoy his time in Paris, not feel like a caretaker to his pathetic boyfriend that misses him every two minutes and that can't even find the fucking _cough drops_  without having an emotional breakdown.

Connor misses Troye like crazy, but he needs to prove to Troye that he can be just as independent as he can. Besides, Troye comes back tomorrow night; he thinks he can survive one more day without him.

“One more day. Just one more day.”

Connor keeps repeating this himself to calm him down, but right now he's sweating and shivering at the same time and tears keep leaking from his eyes and he can't control it. He remembers this feeling. He _knows_ what's happening. He tries to remember his breathing exercises, but it's been over _a year_ since he's had an asthma attack that he just starts trying to gulp air all at once. Oxygen feels poisonous at this point and he's coughing so hard that his lungs might burst and he just wants his boyfriend to hold him. So with trembling hands he picks up his phone and dials an unfamiliar, yet _familiar_ number because at this point it's all he knows.

\-----------------------

It's noon when Joey gets the call. He sees the screen flash with the familiar number and is hesitant to pick up. He wonders if it's a test, if Connor is calling just to _tease_ him, but there's something in his gut telling him to pick up. So he does. Then he finds himself rushing out his door with one contact lens in and mismatching shoes and a key he thought he would never use again.

\--------------------

Connor hears the door click open and footsteps running towards him and all he can think is _Troye is here. Troye has come to save me._ But he's being held by someone _too muscular,_ and they smell _different_ , but it feels so _nice_ and _familiar_ and _wonderful_ that he leans into the touch.

“Joey..?”

But that's all he gets to say before something is being shoved in his mouth and _hey! he can breathe now_! He starts to wonder when Joey became a magician. Joey does a huge sigh of relief and then does his cute giggle laugh. Guess he _hadn't_ thought that. Oops.

“I'm so glad you're okay; I was so worried about you.” Joey's demeanour changes in an instant and he's gently hugging Connor and kissing his temple and something is telling Connor that Joey should not be here, even though his presence is comforting.

But he knows that Troye would not like this, and Connor loves Troye. A lot. Even though Joey _is_ hot and muscular and has the most beautiful smile in the universe. Why does his asthma medication make him feel so weird?

“I have a boyfriend.” And Joey just laughs, but Connor doesn't like that laugh because it sounds _mean_ and full of _sadness_ and he just wants Joey to smile again. But he keeps going anyways because in his fuzzy, drugged up mind he's on a roll. “He's very pretty; he's a model you know. You're pretty too. And your muscles are big.” Joey tries to stifle a laugh. “Troye is always gone and I never get to see him and I feel so alone but when he is here he is so nice and smells so nice and talks nice and he's beautiful and writes me pretty songs and calls me cupcake because I always eat all of the cupcakes and the icing gets all over me but I remember you don't like icing but Troye loves it in fact when we have sex he likes to—”

Connor finds himself unable to finish his rant anymore when there's water going down his throat and some pills to accompany it. Suddenly he's sleepy and feels himself being floated to his bedroom. But he doesn't _want_ to sleep. It's 1 in the afternoon and he can't remember if he closed up, or if Lizzy or Maria or _whatever_ that interns name is has burned his beloved café down.

Maybe he'll just rest for a few minutes. Or a few hours. Then he'll wake up and Troye will be here. Except he won't. Because it's only Friday.

Just one more day.

\--------

Joey sits in his and Connor's old bedroom— now _Troye_ and Connor's— and continues to watch over Connor. He feels unwelcome, like he's treading on someone else's territory. And maybe he is. Maybe he should've left _hours ago_ like any other normal person would (he's now been here for about 6 hours), but the thought of Connor waking up alone hurts his heart, and he swore to himself he would never hurt Connor like Connor hurt him.

He shakes those thoughts out of his head and gets ready to leave when he hears the front door unlock with a small **_click!_**. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [dw!!! tronnor cuteness will be coming up soon!! [and did anyone catch me lowkey including Lia Marie Johnson in ill be doin that a lot] 
> 
> [oh and if u didn't catch it Troye was the doe eyed boy from the coffee shop]


End file.
